The Most Dangerous Man
by MrsTateLangdon
Summary: .: AU/AH:. "She actually didn't know why she was talking to this man. He was a criminal for Christ's sake! A very, very dangerous one at that. She shouldn't be pushing his buttons, but she couldn't stop herself." Clary had never heard of Jace Herondale until now. What events will transpire? .:Guns, maybe some violence, gangs/mobsters:.
1. Criminal?

**A/N:**

**Hello there!**

**This is just an idea I had. If I get some feedback, I'll continue (I don't want to write stuff no one wants to read). Just a heads up before you start reading: this story is set in the 1920's in America. It isn't actually in America, but it's the same time period, the same events going on, the Prohibition-era and such, etc. . . .You'll understand. . . hopefully.  
**

**Anyways, I'll let you read.**

**I hope you like it!**

**I do not own any characters...darn...**

* * *

She straightened her white hat as she neared Idris National Bank. She walked briskly, passing people who were just as absorbed in what they were doing as she was. She was already running late and her break had been over for two minutes already. Her boss hated it when she was late coming back from break. It wasn't her fault though. Her boyfriend had held her up and she was _not_ going to deny _him_ anything. It always ended badly.

As soon as the bank came into view, she nearly sprinted, bursting through the glass doors and running to the time slot machine. She slammed her card in just as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around slowly to face her boss.

"Ms. Fray," he said, deadly calm. His dark eyes were unreadable.

"I'm sorry Mr. Morgenstern—" she started.

"_Sorry?_ This is the third time you've been late this week! Are you okay, Ms. Fray? Is something going on?"

"No," she said too rushed, too automatic. That's how everything was nowadays: automatic. She didn't have to think too much when someone asked if she was okay, it was always 'Yes, I'm fine' or 'No, nothing's wrong.' Those responses were second nature to her even though they were complete lies. She, however, would never tell anyone any different. _He_ wouldn't like that.

"Are you sure?" Valentine asked.

"Yes." She nodded for emphasis.

He didn't seem sold but let it go nonetheless. "Okay, Ms. Fray. Back to work, then." He left.

She walked over to her space behind the counter and moved the closed sign. A few customers walked in but stopped near the door, appearing to be conversing. She was watching them closely. One of the two men walked back out of the door. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared down the street.

"Clary!"

She tore her gaze away from the man standing in front of the door and looked at Aline, her co-worker. She was coming toward Clary startlingly fast considering the shoes she was wearing.

Aline was always daring when it came to fashion. For example, today she was wearing a pale blue, simple dress with a pink ribbon tied in a bow across her hips. The daring part, however, was where it fell to: way above her knees. Her jewelry just added to it, with multicolored chunky bracelets on her wrists and a long chained necklace with a star pendant hanging around her neck.

Her shockingly long hair was curled to perfection and carefully pinned back to leave just a few pieces in front, framing her face. Her makeup was also very bold, especially her bright red lipstick.

"Clary, you were late again," Aline said as she moved to her spot behind the counter.

"I know," Clary said, not really caring.

"What kept you? Was it . . . ?" She let the question hang in the air.

Clary, however, didn't know what she was talking about so she quirked an eyebrow, forcing Aline to elaborate.

"Was it . . . _Sebastian_?" she said his name in a hushed tone.

Clary's jaw tightened at the mention of that name. "He—" she started but was interrupted.

"Why hello, ladies."

The smooth, rich voice belonged to a young man. A fine man at that. He was one of the men who Clary had watched walk in before.

Clary caught herself staring too long at the man standing in front of her and Aline.

Sitting atop his honey colored hair that was perfectly messy and fell into his face was a solid black fedora that matched his suit. His cheekbones were high and jaw strong. His golden—golden?—eyes were captivating, though they held something that Clary couldn't quite decipher. His gaze was intent as he looked at Clary, seeming to pay no attention to Aline.

"I am interested in opening an account here with Idris National Bank," the man stated, smoothing out his crisp, black suit with his hands before slipping them into his pockets. Clary couldn't help but notice how sharp he looked. "Could one of you fine ladies help me?" He addressed them both with his words but he hadn't once looked at Aline so Clary assumed his attention was directed more toward her. She, though, did not have a problem with that.

He raised an eyebrow, knocking Clary out of her thoughts.

"Um, yes, sir. I can help you set up an account, Mr. . . ?" she trailed off.

"Herondale. Mr. Jace Herondale," the man said. He lifted his hat slightly, running a hand through his hair before putting it back on and smirking.

Clary caught herself smiling back a little and stopped herself promptly. If _he _knew about that . . .

"If you would follow me, Mr. Herondale, I'll take you to Mr. Morgenstern. He is in charge of creating new accounts and such—"

"I'll just wait out here," said Mr. Herondale. "My brother is coming back with the papers that I forgot. He should only be a few minutes."

Clary nodded.

"Oh, and please, call me Jace." He threw her another wicked smirk.

She found herself unable to stop the smile this time that spreads across her lips. The back of her mind reminds her of what _he_ would do if _he_ knew that she was smiling at another man. Subconsciously, she tugged at the hem of her sleeves at her wrists.

"I'll just go get Mr. Morgenstern while you wait for your brother."

Clary left the counter and headed for her boss's office. She smoothed out her gray dress before pushing open the door.

Valentine Morgenstern was sitting at his desk, papers and books spread out in front of him in an array. He was glancing at different papers and scribbling things down into a book. It was several moments before he noticed her presence. He cleared his throat and wrote down a few more things before he addressed her.

"Yes, Ms. Fray?"

"Sir, there is a man who wishes to open an account here," she informed.

"Is that so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is he going to be a good client?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Clary said. "I haven't heard of his family. He said his name was Jace Herondale."

Valentine paled. "_Herondale_?"

She nodded. "Herondale."

Her boss was up in a flash and papers floated to the floor from his desk. His eyes were wide. "You let _Jace Herondale_ into the bank? How many did he have with him?"

Clary didn't understand what he had a problem with. "He said he was waiting on his brother—"

"His brother!" Valentine wiped at his face with a hand. He sobered. "Clary—" he never used her first name "—do you know who Jace Herondale is?"

She jerked a thumb in the direction of the counter. "He's that man out there."

"No, Clary," Valentine said, shaking his head. He continued in a hushed tone and she had to lean in to hear him."He's Jace Herondale, notorious mobster and criminal. He's a smuggler too. The worst kind, he is. He hasn't been caught yet. People say he has a small group with him and that's how he can get everything done so quickly." He paused. "This might be a robbery," he said plainly.

_Criminal?_

Clary hadn't realized that he was a criminal.

Then she paused and thought rationally. That man, a criminal, was just outside this office. Aline was out there with him and he most definitely had a gun. She bit her lip and hoped that she could just disappear and not have to worry about a potential bank robbery.

"What are we to do, then, sir?" she asked.

Valentine looked intently at her. "We let him take what he wants."

* * *

"Sir," Clary said to Jace, "I see your brother has returned. Do you wish to see Mr. Morgenstern? He is in his office."

Jace shook his head. He motioned for his brother to stand away from him. "It's okay, miss. I've changed my mind about this whole account thing." He leaned toward her, hands steadying him from across the counter. His eyes never left hers. "Instead, I'd like to find out what time your shift ends so I can get you a drink."

He winked and Clary blushed. Determined to get the upper hand, she leaned in too, resting her elbows on the counter so she could meet his gaze level. She put on a smirk, hoping to throw him off.

She succeeded.

Jace's eyebrow cocked, almost challengingly. "So when do you get off?"

Clary raised her own eyebrows. "When do I get off? Sir, you do not even know my name and you try to court me? Very unlike a gentleman."

His eyes darkened slightly and she knew she'd won his curiosity.

"And it's very unlike a lady to turn me down." He paused. "Now that I think about it, I cannot recall a single time at which a woman has turned down my offer."

Clary's smirk widened. "Then you haven't met too many worthy women."

Jace smirked too. "I guess not. So how about I start?" He straightened and extended his hand to her.

She glanced at it before standing up as well.

"Hi. I'm Jace Herondale, miss. And you are?"

Clary raised her chin, smiling ever so slightly. "Clary Fray." She looked down at his hand again. "Are you going to put that down?"

Jace followed her gaze and smirked, lowering his hand. "Not too fond of hand shaking?"

"Not with men who have such low standards for women."

"When did I say I have low standards for women?"

Clary rolled her eyes. She actually didn't know why she was talking to this man. He was a criminal for Christ's sake! A very, very dangerous one at that. She shouldn't be pushing his buttons, but she couldn't stop herself.

"You expect women to be at your beck and call, _sir_," she said sharply. "As if we are merely servants. We have more rights than that. We deserve better than that."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautifully captivating green eyes?"

Clary opened her mouth but couldn't respond because his remark was not what she was expecting.

Jace smiled. Not a smirk like he had been doing, but an actual smile. "I suppose not since I seem to have rendered you speechless."

Clary just stared, still unable to speak.

Jace chuckled. "You don't suppose I could speak with Mr. Morgenstern now, Ms. Fray?"

That shook her out of her reverie. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course."

She could hear her boss's words in her head: "_We let him take what he wants._"

Clary nods her head in the direction of the hallway that led to Valentine's office. She started toward it, assuming Jace would follow. As she approached the hall, she turned to see Jace there, walking close behind her. He stopped.

"Yes?"

Clary shook her head. She pointed toward the closed door at the end of the hallway. "His office is there on the left. The last door."

Jace smirked. "Thank you, miss." He gave her a small salute and started down the hall.

Clary watched him walk. His stride was confident, easy. He even carried himself like the arrogant criminal that he was.

In the last glimpse she got of him before he disappeared into her boss's office, she saw him pull something from behind his back, underneath his suit jacket. She realized it must have been tucked away so no one would see it.

This man was good.

Clary almost hoped he wouldn't get caught any time soon so she could continue conversing with him, get to know him.

Her wistful thoughts, however, were pushed out of her mind when she grasped the severity of the situation.

The object shined slightly in the lighting.

It was the last thing she saw before the door closed.

A Tommy Gun.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Anyone else think Jace makes for a _very_ sexy mobster/gangster? I do... :)**

**Oh! I figured I should mention something else: I'm sort of modeling Jace's character off of Al Capone...just figured I should mention that...**

**BTW: I described Aline's clothes just so you could get a feel for what the girls wore in this time period. If you want a better idea, just Google 1920's women's fashion or something of that sort.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Please let me know if I should continue! :)**


	2. A Good Thing?

**A/N:**

**Wow you guys! I've had a lot of feedback from the first chapter so i figured I'd continue! Thanks to i love jace lightwood, ****Fighting The Inevitable, Guest, Fangirl, maraudergirl68448, yourloved, Irvana Miranda, greygirl2358, iLoveMeSomeCaptainAmerica, poisoned-.-rationality, , AllaceRose, KaitlynTheBadassGirlz, TeddyOwl, Mollytamale, and thelastherondale for reviewing! You and everyone else who followed, faved, and read are so amazing! Thanks!**

**It was brought up as to where this story is set. Answer: Idris. It's not really going to be _in_ America, but it will be very, very similar to what was going on during the 20's. I just didn't want to pick a single city/place to set the story in America, so I decided to just not set it in America and then I would be able to use different occurrences from different cities to base things off of for this story. Events that would otherwise have no correlation.**

**Sorry, i was rambling...Hopefully it cleared some things up instead of making them even more confusing...**

**But anyways, this is Chapter 2!**

**So I hope you enjoy it!**

**I do not own the characters...**

* * *

Clary and Aline were both behind the counter, Clary watching the man, Jace's brother, very closely. Mr. Morgenstern had told her that Jace was said to have a group with him so she was uneasy about having this man in such a close proximity.

He looked calm enough though. He was tall and fit, slightly on the slender side. His dark hair was in perfect contrast with his pale skin tone and bright blue eyes. The way he held himself was completely different than Jace. Where Jace was confident and sure of himself, this man was standing as if he wished to blend into the wall and disappear.

The bell above the entrance rang and Clary's eyes flicked to the door. She was _not_ expecting what she saw.

A woman, around her own age, entered. It wasn't seeing a woman that she didn't expect, it was the clothes she was wearing.

The woman wore an elegant, fitted black dress that fell mid-thigh and tall, heeled leather boots that Clary had never seen before. The woman's long, dark hair was pin-straight and fell way beyond her shoulders, a thin sequined band across her forehead. Clary had to admit this woman was very pretty—it even made her feel slightly self-conscious—but it was hard to see past the repulsiveness of her ridiculous, un-ladylike clothes.

"Alec," the woman said, addressing the man who Jace had referred to as his brother. The woman raised an eyebrow and he shook his head.

"Isabelle," he said in a hushed tone, shooting Clary and Aline a look. "_Jace only works so fast._" Clary turned her head, acting as if she hadn't heard what Alec—apparently—had said. He, however, was terrible at whispering so it was hard not to hear him.

The girl, Isabelle, rolled her eyes. "He needs to hurry."

"Can I help you?" Aline asked Alec and Isabelle. They both turned their heads quickly, surprised.

"No," Isabelle said. "We're just waiting for Jace. He's our brother."

"Hmm, okay."

A sudden burst of shouting made everyone turn their heads to look at the door of Mr. Morgenstern's office. They couldn't understand words but it was obvious they were having more than a disagreement. Clary was just hoping that she wouldn't hear a gunshot.

Suddenly, the door to her boss's office swung open, revealing an obviously flustered and angry Jace. He no longer was holding a gun, Clary observed as he walked out of the doorway and made for the counter. She assumed he was going to attempt to take the money from her and Aline's stations, but instead, he walked right up to her. She took a step back but he continued closing in on her until her back hit a wall. She shot a scared look at Aline who had on a look of horror.

Jace looked down at her with blazing gold eyes, as if he was angry but was trying his hardest not to show it.

"Miss Fray," he said in a cool, unwavering voice. Clary liked the way he said her name. "I have taken it upon myself to inform you that this is a robbery." He said the words as if they had no meaning. "And I need you—" he took her arm "—to come with me."

Clary tried to retract her arm but he was too strong. His grip tightened and she whimpered slightly—his fingers were digging into the multiple bruises that were on her arms. What looked like guilt or sympathy or concern flashed through Jace's eyes but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He turned. "Let's go," he said, voice gruff.

Clary followed obediently, not wanting to know the consequences of not following this man's orders. Though she assumed it would involve that gun he most definitely had tucked away.

Jace lead her down the other hall and she knew where they were headed.

The vault.

He was going to make her open the vault and give him all of the money.

Her boss had told her to let him have what he wanted, but she wanted to push him, see just how far he'd go to get what he wanted. She knew it was stupid of her but she didn't care.

Jace spoke to her but she didn't hear him because she was absorbed in her own thoughts.

"Hmm?" she asked.

Jace slowed down so he was no longer pulling her and was instead walking beside her. He still held a firm grip on her arm though, as if she'd run from him.

"I asked, Miss Fray," he said, "why you are working." He stole a glance at her.

She looked at him too and caught his gaze before he turned away from her, focusing on making it to the vault.

"I work," she said, "because Mr. Morgenstern is a family friend."

"But surely _you_ shouldn't have to work," said Jace. "It is not the woman's job to provide for the family. Especially not your job."

"Well," Clary said, "you don't know me." She could feel his eyes on her again.

They made it to the vault.

"Open it," Jace said, letting go of her arm and pushing her forward none too gently.

"Oh, really?" Clary asked. "There you go again: giving me orders because I am a woman and that's what I do, right?"

Jace smirked. "My lady, would you be so kind as to open the vault so that I may obtain all of its contents?" He waggled his eyebrows challengingly.

"What ever happened to please?"

"Please."

Clary shrugged. "I really don't feel in the mood . . ."

"You're stalling," he said, taking a step toward her. "Stop stalling."

She raised a finger to her lips contemplatively. "I'm not stalling."

He took another step forward so there wasn't any space between them. She was aware of every place their bodies touched, and she almost blushed.

He leaned in so close that Clary could feel his warm—and slightly intoxicating—breath on her cheeks. "Clary," he whispered into her ear, a slight whine to the tone, "just open the vault."

She stared back at him, expression hard. "Why should I do that?"

A smirk twitched at the corners of Jace's mouth. She didn't know what he was doing until she felt the cool metal against her temple.

"I hold all of the cards, Miss Fray," Jace said. "Or, in this case, all of the guns." He nodded to the pistol he had held at her head. "So I'd appreciate it deeply if you could just _open the vault_."

Clary swallowed hard.

_That escalated quickly._

She still, however, wasn't scared. She knew it sounded ridiculous, but she wasn't scared. She knew, somehow, that Jace wouldn't hurt her, that there wasn't even the slightest chance that he would. He'd already been nicer to her than most other bank robbers would have been, but maybe that was part of his schemes: seducing and/or flattering the employees to give them what he wanted.

Her hand slid to the metal door handle of the vault and turned it—the vault wasn't locked during bank hours because no customers were allowed past the teller counter. She pushed the door open with her hand, not breaking eye contact with Jace.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he lowered the pistol, but didn't put it away. He moved past her and walked into the vault.

The vault at Idris National Bank wasn't really anything special. It was basically just a big steel box fitted into a room. The money was bound and stacked neatly, just as it had been when it was shipped there fresh off the print.

Jace let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of money for such a small bank, missy." He looked up at Clary with a smile as if he was a child looking at a Christmas present. He looked innocent. She decided he should smile genuinely more often.

"Mr. Morgenstern likes to keep a lot of money here for our big clients," she explained, hiding her own smile.

"Hmm. I see." Jace began circling the money. He looked up at her. "Well, then don't worry, Miss. I won't take _all_ of your money. Just most of it."

He took out a black bag that Clary hadn't realized he'd been carrying and began to stuff money into it. She watched with curiosity at how gracefully and swift he moved.

Why did this man have to be a criminal? He was perfect in every way and Clary couldn't have him.

Or could she?

She shook her head at the thought. She couldn't be that stupid. Could she?

"Did you just shake your head at me?"

Clary looked up. Jace had stilled his movements and was watching her with curiosity.

"I didn't shake my head at _you_, no," she said simply. "Now, are you going to hurry up? The police have most likely been called already. Which means that you have limited time to carry this out."

"I'm fine," he said. "The police won't catch me."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "How can you be so sure?"

Jace spread his arms. "I'm here, aren't I?" He smirked.

She rolled her eyes.

He gave her a look, almost contemplatively, eyes narrowed slightly in thought.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't tell me this doesn't appeal to you."

"What appeals to me?"

"This," he said, making a sweeping gesture toward himself and the money he was stuffing away.

"You?"

He laughed. "Well of course I appeal to you—I'm stunning. But no, I meant everything as a whole." There was a glint in his eyes she hadn't seen before. "The life of a criminal."

Clary swallowed hard.

It was like he read her thoughts. Ever since she had been told about who Jace was by Mr. Morgenstern, Clary had been wondering what it would be like if she were to join him, however silly it may have sounded in her head. She wondered how freeing it would feel to be able to do whatever, have whatever, and not have a care in the world. No worry about the police catching up with your bad deeds.

"I can tell you've been thinking about it," Jace said, quietly. He walked around and stood behind Clary.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't turn around. She sensed him come closer, but he moved silently.

"I can see it in you eyes, Clary." His breath was on her neck. She closed her eyes. "I can see that you want to know how it feels. Just a little taste of the good life." His voice dropped to a low whisper and she felt his hands rest lightly on her hips. "I can give that to you, Clary. I can give it all to you. Anything you want, it's yours."

Clary spoke, trying, and failing, to sound unwavering, nonchalant, "Why me?"

Jace chuckled. "You need an escape."

She bit her lip.

"So," he said, "can I trust you?" His hands tightened on her hips.

She turned and he let go of her but didn't move away. His eyes were smoldering.

"Join me?" He flashed a smile.

He was right.

She _did_ need an escape. She needed it bad. Especially from _him_. She didn't know if she could stand another night going home to _him_. She wanted to get away. Get away from everything.

Here was her chance.

What did she have to lose?

Clary walked over to the abandoned black bag that Jace had dropped and held it up. She picked up a stack of bound money and stuffed into the bag.

Jace smirked. "You've made a good choice Miss Fray."

She walked over to him and shoved the bag hard at his chest. He didn't move but she knew she'd made a point.

"Don't call me 'Miss Fray.'"

His smirk widened.

"Now this is how this is going to work . . ."

* * *

It took all Clary had to suppress the growing voice inside her head that told her she shouldn't be doing what she was, but it was entirely to late for that now.

She was already draped over Jace's shoulder, appearing to be dead, as he carried her and the bag full of money, leading his siblings, Alec and Isabelle, out of Idris National Bank.

She heard Aline draw in a sharp breath and begin to sob as Jace strode past her. Clary wanted to look up and tell her that she was fine, but she couldn't. That would ruin the plan.

So instead, she had to continue being limp and act dead.

She had to admit though, Jace was pretty good at devising flawless plans on the spot. When she decided to join him, he formulated the idea to feign her death and carry her out of the bank. No one would question her leaving with a criminal if she were dead. Sure it was slightly vulgar, but she knew it would work.

So Jace fired a few shots from his pistol into the stack of money in the vault, covering it up afterwards, so that it had sounded like Clary had been shot by him. He had somehow—Clary did not know—obtained a few red ink pens. He broke them opened and put a few deliberate splotches on her dress before emptying almost an entire pen into her hair to appear as if she'd been shot in the head. Then he smeared some ink down her neck and even splattered some onto his hands for good measure.

It didn't really look like blood, but no one would be looking that closely if she was slung across Jace's shoulder and motionless. They would be more concerned about the fact that she was dead, not that her blood was actually not the right color.

She felt the slightly chilly air hit her as Jace pushed open the door to the bank and walked outside.

It was freeing, in a sense, that she was away from that place. She hadn't wanted to work but was forced to anyway.

Maybe if she started a new life, she could make it better for herself.

Maybe this was a good thing.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

* * *

**A/N:**

**So how 'bout it?**

**I love to know what you guys think, so let me know!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Dancing

**A/N:**

**Hello everyone!**

**First, I'd like to say WOW! I don't know if you guys understand how INCREDIBLY awesome you all are! So much feedback! Thank you soooooo much to everyone who followed/faved/reviewed/read! You all are soooo fantastic!**

**Second, I'd like to say thanks to ****greygirl2358 who left me a great review that made me laugh and actually predicted the introduction of a character that i already had planned. So, props to you! **

**Thirdly, I want to say that not much toward the plot happens in this chapter but...yeah.**

**And lastly, ENJOY! :)**

**I do not own any characters...**

* * *

"This is Clary."

She looked around at the small group gathered around her and Jace. She only knew Isabelle and Alec The three others—one woman and two men—were complete strangers. The woman had dark hair and envious curves. She looked pretty bad-ass and was standing suspiciously close to one of the men. He was very attractive, Clary had to admit, and his brown hair fell into his eyes, which she found oddly handsome. The other man had white blonde hair and black eyes. He looked strangely and vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it. They all were looking at her with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

"You brought a _girl _back with you?" sneered the man that Clary found attractive. He wrinkled his nose.

"Are you _all_ sexist?" Clary said, shooting a glare at Jace who was standing beside her, showing her off like a prize.

"I am not a sexist," Jace said. "In fact, I'm happy we have another woman around." He winked at her.

She rolled her eyes. "So are you going to introduce me?"

"I told them your name."

"Tell me their names then."

The man with white blond hair and mysteriously black eyes spoke up. "I'm Jonathan," he said. He held his hand out to her. "And I'm not at all opposed to having you join us. I think you'll be a useful asset."

Clary took his hand and offered a smile. He shook her hand and winked at her, eying her up before letting go. She immediately felt uncomfortable.

"I'm Maia," said the curvy, pretty woman. "And this is Jordan." She hooked a thumb at the attractive man. "You, me, and Isabelle need to get together some time." She gave Clary a big smile. "Being around these pigs we call men can get a bit overwhelming."

Jordan rolled his eyes and Clary laughed.

Jace said, "I don't sense some sexism from _you_ two, do I?" He raised a playful eyebrow.

Maia smiled a sickly sweet smile. "No, honey. Just the truth."

Jace stuck his tongue out in a childish manner. It was an action that made Clary assume that Maia and Jace had known each other for a long time.

"Come on, come on," a cold, rude voice from behind Clary said, pushing past her, deliberately bumping her shoulder. "Enough with the chitchat, we have to get going. They're expecting us soon."

Jace rolled his eyes at Alec and crossed his arms. "Okay, Mr. Bossy. Calm it down."

Alec pursed his lips and held his ground. "We have to leave, Jace. There's no time for _her_." He jerked his chin at Clary.

"She has a name, Alec."

"I don't care what her name is as long as she's gone by the time we get back from the speakeasy."

"What do you mean 'gone by the time we get back'? She is going with us." Jace sounded almost bored.

Alec shook his head. "No, she isn't. She can't."

"I'm in charge, Alec. Have you forgotten?" Jace raised a challenging eyebrow. "_She is coming with us._"

"She's going to weigh us down, Jace. She's not going to bring any good. She's just going to get it the way."

"_I_ call the shots."

"She's—"

Clary cut in, hand on her hip. "Would you two stop talking about me like I'm not even standing here?"

Alex scowled at her. Jace just threw her a smirk.

"Listen to the lady, Alec," Jace said, pretending to be serious.

Alec swallowed hard and balled his fists. "Don't patronize me, Jace."

Jace waggled his eyebrows and spun on his heel. "Let's go everyone, we've got places to be."

* * *

"Hey everyone! It's Herondale!"

An almost earsplitting roar of cheers erupted from the crowd gathered in the speakeasy that Clary just walked into, by Jace's side. Jace just smirked as he guided Clary and the others to the back of the large room where the bar was. People moved for them so they could all have a stool to sit on at the bar. Everyone in their group sat down except for Jace and Clary—Jace because he was conversing and Clary because she didn't know what to do.

Jace let out a laugh—a sweet, angelic laugh that rang out—and patted a man on the shoulder, bidding him goodbye, before turning to Clary.

"You're allowed to sit," he said, taking his own seat and nodding to the one next to him, inviting Clary to sit there.

She hopped up onto the stool and looked around. Men of all shapes, sizes, and ages holding drinks filled the room. A few women were there too, but Clary saw that they pretty much cowered, clinging to men. There was a band in one corner with some people dancing in front of them.

"What does it take to get a drink around here?" Jace said, obnoxiously loud. He was obviously trying to get someone's attention. Clary's mental question of _who's_ attention he was trying to get was answered when someone appeared behind the bar directly in front of them. She had never seen someone as eccentric and bold as this man.

A young man around Clary's own age stood in front of her, wiping a glass with a white towel. His dark hair was spiked in several directions and he wore a bright purple button-down, pink bow tie around his neck, tucked into dark, pleated pants. He was coated, head to toe, in a fine layer of glitter. Clary didn't even know where the man could obtain a purple dress shirt or pink bow tie, let alone all of that glitter.

Jace smiled at the man. "Magnus," he addressed.

"Jace Herondale," the man—Magnus—said, nodding his head in acknowledgement. His eyes quickly flicked to the left, sliding past Clary and landing on the person who was sitting next to her before switching his gaze back to Jace. "I heard about your little stunt." He smiled at Clary. "But I didn't hear you got a girl out of the deal."

Jace chuckled.

"It's always a girl with you, isn't it?" Magnus asked, turning to quickly fill the glass he had been holding with a dark liquid.

Jace shrugged. "What can I say?" He smirked. "I like women."

Magnus rolled his eyes and, without saying a word, or even moving his gaze, he slid the drink he'd poured to the person sitting next to Clary. Curious, she turned her head.

Alec. Alec was sitting beside her. Why was Magnus passing Alec a drink?

Clary glanced to see Alec's face. He was blushing furiously, eyes down and hands nervously tapping the glass full of dark liquid he'd been passed.

Jace spoke up. "So how much alcohol do we still have here? Can't a man have a drink?"

Magnus smiled. "I've got just the thing." He ducked beneath the counter.

Jace turned to Clary. "You like it here?"

She shrugged. Honestly, she was indifferent.

"This was the first place I set up when I started smuggling alcohol," he explained, slight nostalgia in his voice. "Then I got the rest of the gang involved and we set up three more here in the city."

Clary nodded.

Jace smiled. "I—" he started. He bit his lip, which Clary found cute and endearing. He averted his gaze, searching for words. Finally, "I'm glad that you joined me—us." He added the last word like an afterthought.

Clary blushed a little and smiled. She was about to answer when Magnus reappeared with a small shot-glass full of an amber liquid.

"The finest whiskey you've got for us, Jace," Magnus said, sliding the glass to him.

Jace picked it up, inspected it, swirled it around, and, bringing it to his lips, threw his head back. Clary watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and his lips twitch into a smile. His eyes flicked to Clary a moment before he looked back at Magnus.

He said, "That _is_ some fine whiskey."

"Do you want another glass?" Magnus asked.

Jace nodded his head. "And could I get something for Clary? Something with Gin or the like?"

Magnus nodded and disappeared yet again.

"I don't drink," Clary said simply.

Jace turned to her. "Why not?" Then he added, "Other than there being a Prohibition."

Clary thought about telling him everything, telling him her exact reason for never wanting to consume alcohol, but she decided to go for the simple version. The version that was the truth, but not the entirety of it.

"My boyfriend—well I suppose you could call him my boyfriend—is an alcoholic," she explained.

Something flashed in Jace's eyes that Clary couldn't decipher, but it was gone before she could think too hard on it. "An alcoholic," he muttered, almost to himself.

Clary, unsure if she should respond, just nodded.

"I get that," said Jace. "You don't want to end up like him."

"Yeah, he—he gets pretty—" she paused. "Dangerous."

Jace leaned in, elbow resting on the bar, and reached a hand out, lightly setting it on Clary's leg. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?"

Clary swallowed hard. Did she tell him how Sebastian truly acted when he was drunk, or should she just give him small details that didn't give too much away?

She shook her head. "He throws things. He gets very violent. He yells; punches walls. But no, he—he doesn't hit me. . ." she trailed off, playing nervously with the edge of her sleeve.

Jace caught her gaze. He didn't look like he believed her, but he didn't push. "I'd have to kill the bastard if he hit you, Clary. I don't care who you are, you _do not_ have the right to hurt a lady in any way."

A glass hitting the wood in front of Clary startled her out of the conversation. Magnus had returned and set down a glass full of a light colored liquid in front of her. He smiled and said, "A drink for the lady."

She smiled. "Thanks."

Magnus left again to tend to other customers.

"Try it," Jace said, nodding to her drink. "I think you'll like it."

Clary studied the glass. She picked it up and swirled it like Jace had, inspecting it from every angle.

"It's not drugged, Clary. You don't have to scrutinize it," Jace joked.

She didn't bother looking at him because she knew he would be smirking. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a small sip.

Her first reaction to the liquid was to spit it out. She wanted to spit it out and rinse her mouth for a good hour. But she suppressed that urge and swallowed it. It burned as the smooth liquid ran down her throat. She closed her eyes, screwing up her face in disgust. But after a moment, somehow, the liquid didn't taste so bad to her, and she was used to it. She lifted the drink to her lips again and took another sip. This time, it didn't burn her throat as much and it actually tasted good. She drank again and set down the glass.

Jace was smiling at her. "Had to get used to it, huh?" He took his hand off her leg that he hadn't removed yet and picked up his shot that Magnus had refilled. He brought it to his lips and downed it. He set it in front of him and hopped off the stool he was on.

"Want to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to Clary.

She blinked, utterly taken aback by his abruptness. She took a sip from her drink and spun around so she was facing Jace.

"I don't dance," she replied simply.

"Of course you do," he said. "Everyone dances."

"I'm not everyone."

"But you've got to love this song, Clary. Just listen," he paused. "It's got to make you _want_ to dance even if you don't dance."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "I don't dance," she reiterated.

Jace smirked, and, before she could understand what was happening, he grabbed her hands and pulled her from the stool, pulling her to him.

"You cheat," she muttered, looking up at Jace. He was much taller than her.

"I'm the best at it," he stated. He took off his hat and set it on the bar next to their drinks, keeping a hold on her wrist, as if to keep her from escaping.

"Let's dance, Miss Clary."

With that, he dragged her to the dance floor in front of the band. Clary was fairly certain she knew the song, and she had to agree with Jace: it sort of did make her want to dance.

Jace stopped and spun Clary so she faced him. He had on a silly smile as he took her right hand.

"Follow my lead, Clary," he said. "You'll get the hang of it."

And he began dancing.

Clary just stood there for a moment as Jace was dancing, watching his movements intently: how gracefully he moved.

"Come on!"

He grabbed her other hand and whirled her around, smiling at her. She just rolled her eyes and moved her feet a little, beginning to get caught up in the song. Jace continued to dance, still pulling her slightly until she took the lead and began dancing like she had when she was young.

A memory of her and her mother dancing in their kitchen when she was six years old flashed through her mind. She remembered how much fun she had. She remembered how her mother had taught her to dance. Her mother had always been so good at dancing. . .

A laugh brought her back into the present.

Jace's laugh. Clary loved it. She would do anything to hear that laugh for the rest of her life.

She hadn't realized until she looked around that a crowd had gathered around them, clapping and cheering them on. She could see Maia, Jordan, and Isabelle through the people. They were all smiling and laughing.

Clary was about to switch up her style of dancing when Jace spoke, slightly winded.

"What?" she asked.

He looked at her with a wicked smirk. "Do you trust me?"

Clary raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

Jace bit his lip and smiled. And before Clary knew what was happening, she was upside down, Jace's hands gripping her waist, holding her as her legs wrapped around his back. The crowd that had gathered around them erupted in a roar, a few catcalls mixed in with more laughter ensuing. It only last a moment, and then she was back on the ground, Jace smiling at her. He winked and took her hand again, dancing.

They danced just a little longer before someone tapped on Jace's shoulder. He turned and nodded, smiling. Suddenly, he let go of Clary's hand and the other man, who Clary now recognized as Jonathan, took her hand, dancing with her. The two men kept switching on and off, one dancing with Clary for a few moments and then the other, until Jace tapped on Jonathan's shoulder a final time. As soon as he took Clary's hand, he spun her to him and dipped her back, kicking a leg back behind him, pretending to kick Jonathan out of the way. The crowd laughed and Jonathan stepped back, hands up in mock surrender.

Jace pulled Clary back up, bringing her close to him before pushing her away slightly and dancing again.

"What was that nonsense about you not dancing, Miss Clary?" Jace asked, laughing.

She shrugged and Jace laughed again.

The band then began to pick up the tempo of the song, obviously encouraging Jace and Clary to dance faster. They obliged, moving their feet and spining and twirling faster than they had been, slowing increasing their pace with the growing speed and dynamic. Clary's legs burned and she felt like she might lose her footing and slip when the band finally played the long note, dropping with a forte piano before blaring.

Jace twirled her around a final time before spinning her to him and dipping her back, just as the band played the zinger of a last note, leaving the entire room in silence.

Then the crowd roared.

Louder than Clary had ever heard in her life.

Jace held her there for what felt like an eternity—though she knew it was just a few seconds. Their faces mere centimeters from each other, sharing the others breath. Jace's hair hung around his face, tickling Clary's cheeks. His parted lips were slightly upturned into a smile that she was sure reflected her own. His cheeks were flushed and his golden eyes were ablaze.

Suddenly, a cheer started in the crowd.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Panic ran through Clary. She could see embarrassment sweep over Jace's features. It was obvious he could see how uncomfortable she was. His gaze flicked to her lips, but he must have thought better of it because he hesitantly and quickly pressed his lips to her forehead, before pulling her back up so she was standing.

He took a step back and bowed deeply.

"A pleasure dancing with you, my fine lady," he said, smiling. He pushed a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

"The same," Clary said, surprised at how breathless she sounded.

The crowd had stopped chanting and was beginning to dissipate.

Jace took her by the hand, saying, "Let's get a drink," before guiding her in the direction of the bar.

As they walked, Clary's turned over in her mind what had just happened and she realized that was the most fun she'd had in her life. She was able to let go of her cares and truly enjoy herself.

When they made it to the bar and he helped her up onto her seat, he sat next to her and asked, "Did you have fun?"

Clary smiled. "Yes. That was the most fun I've had in a very long time."

Jace returned the smile and pushed a drink toward her, picking up one for himself. "You're quite the dancer, Clary," he said before taking a swig of from his glass.

She took a sip of her own. "Me?" she asked. "_You're_ quite the dancer, mister. Where did you learn to dance like that? It was like I was partnered with a professional."

Jace chuckled. "I'm not professional by any means," he said. "I was taught to dance when I was little and my sister, Isabelle, and I would dance all the time. She's actually the professional, not me. She could probably beat a world champion."

Clary laughed. "I was taught by my mother."

He nodded and took a drink.

"Sebastian never liked dancing," she said quietly. "He always said he hated music and he didn't like the idea of everyone seeing me move like that out in public."

Jace raised an eyebrow and set down his drink. "Who's Sebastian?"

Clary looked away. "My, um, boyfrien—ex-boyfriend."

He nodded. Then a smile spread across his face.

"What?" she asked.

"I wonder how upset he is that you're allegedly dead. You know: since you don't seem like you two were very close."

Clary sighed. "Oh, I don't even care. To hell with him."

Jace seemed at loss for words. Finally after several moments of silence, Jace said, "Well, we should get going." He nodded to the clock hanging behind the bar. "It's late."

Clary nodded and finished her drink. She hopped down off the stool, Jace landing lightly beside her. After a few seconds, the rest of the group, Isabelle, Maia, Jordan, and Jonathan, with the exception of Alec, were all gathered around them.

"Where's Alec?" Jace asked, addressing no one in particular.

"Oh, he won't be coming with us," Isabelle said in a sing-songy voice, suggesting that she knew something everyone else didn't.

Jace blew out a breath. "Well I guess that's everyone then."

The group turned and started walking to the door. Jace, however, stayed where he was.

Clary nodded toward the group. "Come on, Jace."

He looked at her with an emotion that she couldn't understand for a moment, before he offered a small smile and began walking. Clary followed him, and after a few steps, she felt something against her hand. Then, Jace's fingers slipped into hers and laced them together, holding hands.

A smile spread across Clary's lips as she walked out with Jace, being truly happy.

She could get used to this.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey there again!**

**So i put two links up on my profile to YouTube videos that have examples of how Jace and Clary were dancing. The beginning of the second video is how Jace and Clary and Jonathan were dancing and the rest of the video and the other is just more styles of dancing from the 20's/swing style dancing. PLEASE check them out so that you get an idea as to how they danced because I know I didn't describe it too well.**

**Oh yeah, and the thing where Jace says "Do you trust me?" and then picks her up and she is upside down I didn't really know how to describe so I put up a link to a picture of what he was doing.**

**Wow, I rambled quite a bit. But please, check those out so i don't feel bad for not describing enough.**

**Thanks to everyone who read!**

**Please review/follow/fave!**

**Thanks! :D**


	4. Change

**Hey guys! :) I'm not dead! I'm so sorry for the super long wait. Honestly, life has been ridiculous for quite some time and I'm really getting tired of it. I like writing and i just don't have much time for it anymore:( Though i will try to update all of my stories either today or tomorrow.**

**Thank you for all of the reviews/follows/faves! It means so much to me, you lovely people.**

**This is chapter four...i sincerely hope you like it...i'm not entirely sure about my thoughts on it...**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**I do not own the Mortal Instruments...**

* * *

"_NOTORIOUS HERONDALE STRIKES AGAIN, BANK ROBBERY AND HOMICIDE"_

Clary watched as Jace's eyes scanned the paper once more before sighing and setting it down, looking up at her. She was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, picking at the food that was on her plate. She had already read the article in the paper, opting to skip over the last few paragraphs as they were describing, in too much detail than she cared to have, her 'death.' She had almost started crying, and Jace had taken the paper from her swiftly, pushing a plate of food in front of her to distract her some.

She looked up at Jace, who had resumed eating. He ran a hand through his hair as he set down his fork and looked at her, catching her gaze.

"Now we're going to have to keep you on the down low for awhile, Clary. The world thinks of you as dead. If they see you out and about, suspicions will rise and this whole plan will collapse."

Clary set down her silverware with a clink. "So what do you expect me to do, then?

He looked away. "Stay in. Don't leave here for a good while." He set his hands on the table and looked her in the eyes. "When you _can_ leave, we'll have to change your appearance; make it so no one will recognize you as the girl that was killed."

"Change my appearance?" Clary asked, shocked. "What do you mean?" This is not what Clary had signed up for. Sure, she was joining a life of crime and that was bad, but she didn't want to change her appearance.

Jace blew out a breath. "I understand this isn't going to be something you'll take to well, but it has to be done—"

"Jace, I don't want to change what I look like."

"Clary—"

"Jace, I don't want to."

He sighed. "I get that." He pushed his rolled up sleeves of his button-down past his elbows and raised a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. "Maybe if Isabelle tried a few things to show you what you might look like. We'll probably only have to cut your hair—maybe some new make up and a different style of clothes."

Clary shook her head. "Jace—"

"I know this seems like a lot, Clary." Jace leaned toward her. "I don't mean it to be like that. And it doesn't have to happen right away. I just figured I'd tell you of what's to come."

She pursed her lips and sighed. She looked away but could feel Jace's hot gaze on her so she turned back to him, finding him looking at her intently. "What?" she asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jace shook his head, hair falling into his face, casting shadows over her cheeks and bringing out the gold in his eyes. He shrugged it off: "Nothing," he mumbled. After a few moments, he spoke again, changing the subject. "We're, uh, planning another outing for this evening. Out to the speakeasy on the other side of town." He began twisting his fork between his fingers, Clary noticed, out of what she thought was nervousness. "You—Would you like to come with me? Well—I mean, you'd probably go anyway. I was just wondering if you'd like to go, you know. . . with . . . well, with me." Jace finished lamely, embarrassed, Clary could tell. His gaze was cast down, a slight tint of pink dusting the tops of his cheeks that she could see through his hair that he hadn't pushed out of his face yet.

Was this his way of asking her out? They'd just met and he wants to take her to a speakeasy with him? Clary wasn't quite sure what to think about the whole situation. Not even two minutes ago they were talking about her changing her appearance to keep the media away, and now he was, what she assumed, asking her on a date. She decided to be blunt.

"Mr. Herondale," she started, the sassy, alluring tone surprising her and causing Jace's eyes to snap up to her face. "Are you asking me on a date?"

He opened his mouth, lips forming silent words before he was able to mutter out, "No." He set down the fork that was still between his fingers and pushed his sleeves up. He ran his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.

She had him flustered. And she knew it. And she was going to see how far she could go with this.

"Really?" she asked. "Because, Mr. Herondale, it really seemed as though you were asking me on a date, you know, the way you asked." She leaned an elbow on the table and began twirling her hair with a finger. She watched Jace eye her movements and his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

His cheeks were flushed and hands gripped at the table, searching for a hold. He was nervous. Did something as little as this have the great Jace Herondale, notorious criminal, nervous? Did _Clary_ have him nervous? She laughed inwardly at the ridiculous thought. There must have been something up, right?

"Would it matter if I had asked you on a date or not? Girls throw themselves at me all the time, it's not like I couldn't find someone else if you turned me down." He spoke with a controlled tone—but just barely. Clary could tell. His voice was laced with a lazy tone but she knew it was forced and it made her giggle out loud this time.

Jace's head snapped up, eyes locking with hers. "Did I say something funny?" His eyebrow was raised, pure question in his stare.

She shook her head. "No, Mr. Herondale. You did not say anything funny. Though it is sort of disturbing how you think of women."

"Only some women."

"Only some?"

He nodded, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Only some," he confirmed.

"Well what about me?" she asked, truly wondering if he thought she was just another one of those girls that threw themselves at him.

"You, Miss Fray," said Jace, sitting up straighter and placing his hands on the table, "are different."

"Different?"

He nodded and leaned forward. He spoke in a whisper, as if telling her a secret: "I don't just take anyone with me from robbery. It's kind of a no-no, if you know what I mean. I—You seemed like you were different—a good different. So now you're here. And I'm still deciding on whether or not that's a good thing."

Clary looked down at her hands. "Well," she said, meeting his gaze, "When you know, make sure to tell me."

"You'll be the first." He offered a smile.

"Anything good to eat in here?" Isabelle said, bursting through the kitchen door and walking straight to the cupboards.

"We had the place restocked so you should be good, Isabelle," Jace said, standing up and taking both his and Clary's plates to the sink to wash them.

"Good. I'm hungry."

"Aren't you always hungry," Jace asked with a laugh.

Isabelle moved to the other side of the room, rooting through the rest of the cupboards there. "No, silly. I just really love food."

Jace rolled his eyes and dried and put away the plates he'd just finished washing.

Clary spoke up. "So, Isabelle, Jace tells me I must change my appearance. Is that so?"

Isabelle froze, stopping what she was doing and turned to Clary. There must have been something in the tone of her voice that made the other girl look at her with the expression she was giving her: pity.

"Oh, honey. I know it seems like a lot and all, but really it's for your own good. And your well-being. We wouldn't want anyone to recognize you."

"Jace says I have to cut my hair."

Isabelle looked at Jace, who had walked over and stood behind his chair across from Clary. "He's right, honey. We'll have to cut your hair—assuming you wouldn't want a wig or anything. We can just cut it some and then style it differently."

Clary sighed.

"How about we go to my room, Clary?" Isabelle said, her words coming out as more of a statement than a question. She held out her hand to Clary, not letting Jace's stare faze her. Clary reluctantly took Isabelle's hand and allowed her to pull her from her seat and out of the room, leaving Jace to stare after them—she could feel his heated gaze on her as they walked out.

Isabelle led them down a hallway with elegant gold wallpaper, paintings of various scenes strewn across the walls, running the entire length up to the tall ceiling. Isabelle's heels clicked softly on the polished floor, echoing quietly. They passed several dark wooden doors with differing designs carved into them, before turning the corner and finding them at the base of a grand set of mahogany steps. Isabelle's hand lightly ghosted the railing as she ascended the stairwell, Clary following behind her.

On the second landing Isabelle left the stairs and walked down the hallway that extended far in front of them. The darkness of it was broken up by bursts of light from the occasional window that they passed. Finally, Isabelle paused in front of a door and pulled a key from inside a pocket to unlock it. Clary was amazed at what the room held once it was lit up.

Hanging from the high ceiling was a grand, glass chandelier that splayed colorful rays across the great deal of clothes, make up, and other beauty supplies that were spread throughout the large room. One corner was like a closet that had been unfolded just to lay against the wall; clothes on hangers as well as folded and set on shelves according to color. Another corner was similar to the one with the clothes, but instead housed pairs upon pairs of shoes, ranging from dancing shoes to the latest trend. In another corner, there was a large vanity, full of make up and brushes and bottles of all sorts. Next to it was a shelf full of more bottles and towels and sprays that were undoubtedly perfume. Though barely visible through all of the stuff in the room, the walls and floor and ceiling were all a light, soft shade of pink, giving everything a girly feel.

Isabelle walked right in as if unfazed by all of the vast assortment of beauty products. She made her way to the clothes in the far corner, beginning to push her way through all of them. Clary, finally able to break out of the state of shock she was in, followed the other girl to where she was standing, head turning all directions, taking in the room in its entirety.

"Where did you get all of this?" Clary asked, voice embarrassingly full of child-like wonder.

Isabelle threw her a smile over her shoulder, hands not leaving the clothes she was leafing through. "Jace treats his sister good."

"Jace got all of this for you?"

"Well, he made me get some new stuff yesterday since you're here now. So, yes, most of it's mine, but now some of it is yours as well." She pulled out what at first appeared to be a green blob; but when Clary got a better look, she realized it was actually a dress.

"Try it on," Isabelle said, forcing it into Clary's hands and pushing her toward the dressing screen.

A few minutes later, she emerged, feeling uncomfortable and ugly.

"Isabelle," Clary whined. "This looks awful." She looked at the other girl, who was shaking her head.

"Clary, honey, you look beautiful." She smiled and pulled her to the large mirror. Clary looked at herself.

She wore a full length, green sequined gown with long off-the-shoulder sleeves. It huged her body nicely, accentuating her small-but-existent curves, and showing off her slim figure. It matched greatly with her bright red curls that spilled down her exposed shoulders and back, looking good with her creamy white, pale skin.

"Isabelle, I don't like it."

"Okay. Not to change the subject but please, Clary, call me Izzy."

She laughed, the mood lightening slightly. "Okay, _Izzy_."

Izzy smiled. She pulled back some of Clary's hair, styling it differently. "Maybe if we—"

"It doesn't matter what you want to do to my hair," Clary cut it, "Jace wants it cut."

"Oh honey, I doubt anyone wants _your_ hair cut. Look at it! It's beautiful." She picked up a few pieces and gestured to it as if to make her point.

Clary shook her head. "It's ugly. And I might as well cut it, you know: get rid of it."

Izzy caught her gaze in the mirror. "You don't mean that."

Clary stared hard back, not to be mean but to be firm. "I do."

"Do you . . . do you want me to cut it?"

Clary swallowed. Did she? Did she want her hair cut? Well, it was going to have to happen sooner or later. . .

She looked back at Isabelle. She nodded, hoping she wasn't agreeing to something that she would regret later.

* * *

Clary was in her room that she had been given when there was a soft knock at the door. She added a final line to the sketch in her book and closed it, setting it aside on her desk. She made her way to the door, smoothing out her dress before opening the door, unsure of who to expect. The door was pulled back revealing the cold, hard stare of the startlingly blue eyes that belonged to Alec Lightwood.

"Clary."

"Alec, how are you?"

"Fine," he muttered. "Can I speak with you?" he asked, a slight urgent tone in his voice. He threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Sure?"

He nodded his head toward the inside of her room. "May I come in?"

She stepped aside, allowing Alec to walk in. After closing the door, she made her way to the set of elegant black and white patterned chairs that sat in the corner by the french doors leading onto the balcony. She sat down, Alec taking his place in the other chair, looking around her room with a nervousness and almost disgust.

"This is a nice house you guys have," Clary said, attempting to make small talk and still unsure as to why Alec had payed her a visit. "Though may I ask: how are you able to afford this house, and how are you all not found and arrested? I understand that we're pretty far away from the city, but this doesn't seem like a very safe place to set up a permanent haven."

Alec didn't meet her gaze, still searching her room with a judgmental eye. His expression turned into that of annoyance. "This is the secret Herondale manor. It was kept from the public and remains that way. The Herondale's previous home had been raided and is no longer standing. However, since no one knows this one exists, it is still safe from the public, and, therefore, we are safe from law enforcement."

Clary nodded. "Now what about—"

"I didn't come here to answer your questions," Alec cut her off sharply, his eyes snapping to hers in a flash of anger. "In fact, no questions at all. I'm going to tell you something, or, rather, demand it."

Clary furrowed her brows in confusion. "I don't underst—"

"Would you shut up?" Alec rolled his eyes. "Now I'm going to tell you something," he said, taking on a more serious, more forceful tone, "and I will only tell you once: You need to leave. Our business is no place for a girl like you. You're dead weight and you'll only hurt us. And you need to stay away from Jace."

"I'm dead weight?"

"You heard me."

"But I haven't done anything to hinder you. I mean, I haven't actually helped you either . . ." Alec was glaring at her: like his stare might light her on fire if he kept at it long enough. "Why do I have to stay away from Jace?"

"He's better off with someone else. He _deserves_ someone else. Someone better." Alec stood up.

Clary, unsure if he was trying to look down upon her or make to leave, stood up as well—though her being short didn't help her try at confidence. "And who's that? That someone better for him?"

"Anyone but you," Alec snapped, briskly walking to the door. Hand on the door handle, he turned back and said, deadly calm, "I said I'd only tell you once. Now you'd better do it. I am entirely serious: _Leave_."

* * *

Clary looked at herself in the mirror, fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Isabelle caught her gaze in the mirror and gave her a sympathetic look.

"I don't have to do this," she said.

Clary sighed. "No, it's fine. It will have to happen sooner or later."

Izzy raised the scissors and picked up a lock of Clary's long, curly red hair. She gave Clary another look that meant 'I can still stop if you don't want this.' Clary pursed her lips and blinked away the tears.

"Do it."

* * *

She took a deep breath and smoothed out her dress for the twentieth time. She was just avoiding the inevitable. He was expecting her and she needed to go through the door she'd been standing in front of for the past ten minutes. They were supposed to leave for the speakeasy in twenty minutes and he still hadn't come out of his room. Isabelle wanted her to be the one to get him so they could all leave—after all, she hadn't dolled her up for nothing. Alec didn't seem to want her to have anything to do with him but Isabelle was encouraging it greatly.

She took yet another calming breath that, in reality, only made even more nervous. She didn't know what he would think. She didn't want to see his expression of shock—or disgust—that could possibly replace the one he'd always given her: like she sparked his interest. She was scared to know what he would now think of her and she didn't want to open that door.

She lifted a hand to her now short strands of hair and touched them lightly, finding the strength she'd used just a few hours earlier, and laid her knuckles against the dark mahogany of his door, rapping it three times, soft but plenty loud enough to be heard.

"Come in."

Taking another deep breath, she twisted the cool metal of the door handle and pushed open the heavy door, revealing a clean, organized room. A neatly made bed stood against the opposite wall, and next to it was a tall dark finished wardrobe. In one corner sat a large desk with a tall backed chair behind it, not a single item sitting upon it. To the left of it was two filing cabinets standing with a sense of importancy, to her. In the opposite corner there was an enormous bookshelf that took up nearly half the wall, all of the books set neatly. In front of the bookshelf, there were two sitting chairs on either side of a small, glass table, and in the chair farthest from the door sat Jace in black pants and a white dress shirt, eyes closed—though not in sleep, she could tell: in thought.

She bit her lip and took a small step into the room, shutting the door behind her. When she turned back around, she looked at Jace, who still hadn't given a sign that he was aware of her presence, though since he had called for her to enter, she knew he knew that she was there. She advanced toward him, her heels clicking lightly off of the polished floor. She paused beside the chair opposite him, heart racing, threatening to beat out of her chest. She watched his face and when he opened his eyes, it took a moment before they focused on her.

He blinked. And then—shock. Pure shock. His mouth fell open—not even just a little. It fell open like he was just about to raise a forkful of food to his mouth. His lips formed soundless words as he just stared at her, blinking multiple times like what he saw would changed if he did it enough. She just stared back, tears welling in her eyes and just about to break the dam and spill down her cheeks, smearing the makeup that Isabelle had so diligently applied.

"Clary," he breathed, disbelieving. He shook his head. "Wha . . . Why . . ." he whispered half words, not really making any sense, not lessening the horrible feeling in her stomach that was rapidly spreading. "You didn't . . . Is this because of me?"

"You hate it," she muttered.

"What?" he asked, confused, brows furrowed together tightly.

She spoke louder. "You hate it." She paused, then, "Well, I'm not to fond of it either."

Jace stood up and closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. He didn't stop until they were just inches from each other. He raised a hesitant hand to her short hair, brushing the tips of his fingers over the ends of the strands that fell just slightly past her ears. "You cut it."

She blinked back more tears. "You're observant. Thank you, I was unaware."

He shook his head, closing his eyes and retracting his hand quickly. "You cut it because of what I said. I didn't—Clary," he opened his eyes, "you didn't have to do this because of what I said."

"You told me I'd have to cut my hair so no one would recognize me," she said simply, not really trusting her voice yet.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before saying, "Yes, _eventually_. You didn't have to go out and do it today. Clary—Clary, I didn't mean for you to do this. I—I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "You don't need to apologize. I did it by my own will. I just figured I would get it over with."

He took a deep breath through his mouth. He was so close that she could smell his slightly intoxicating aroma, that had an oddly calming effect on her. "But your hair . . ." he said weakly.

"Was a mess," she finished for him. "I never liked it."

He mumbled something and looked away, a shadow of nervousness clouding his features that she'd never seen before. In the time she'd known him, he'd always been confident and witty, not one to be embarrassed or hesitant.

"What?" she asked.

His eyes darted, avoiding her gaze. He muttered in a low tone that she could only just hear. "Did you ever think that someone else may have liked your hair?"

She narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Who liked my hair? Isabelle said she was jealous of the natural curl, but—"

Jace stepped past her, walking to the wardrobe next to the bed. He pulled open one of the doors and took out a black suit jacket to match his pants. He slipped it on and took out a black tie and draped it around his neck. He ran a hand through his already tousled golden hair and turned back to her, eyes still full of guilt.

"We should get going," he said, voice flat.

She swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He plucked his hat from the air of the chair he had been sitting in and began tying his tie as he led the way out of his room and down the hall. She followed, her heels providing the only sound aside from the soft padding of Jace's dress shoes. When they made it to the small sitting room right off of the hall where the main entrance was, they found the rest of the group already there waiting for them. Jace dismissed himself, saying that he would be right back in a moment.

Clary made her way to Isabelle, taking the coat that she offered her. Slipping it on her shoulders, Isabelle asked her, "Did he like it?" Clary didn't answer, instead busying herself with buttoning up the coat and smoothing out her dress. Isabelle nodded her head in understanding and didn't push the subject.

Clary felt eyes on her and glanced around until she found Jonathan watching her, an unknown glint in his gaze. She blushed and turned away.

"You look stunning."

Her head snapped up. Jonathan had taken a few steps toward her and his eyes raked her body.

"Thanks," she muttered, blush creeping down her neck.

"Really. That's a pretty dress."

"I didn't really think much of it."

The dress she was wearing was one that Isabelle had bought for her. It was a light shade of pink, gems and silver swirls interlacing over top, a bow the same shade as the dress on her stomach, the long ribbon extending to the high-low hem that fell just above her knees and to mid-calf. The neckline was modest, and the straps were thick, adorned with the same pattern as the rest of the dress. Isabelle had insisted she wear white tights and high silver heels to make the outfit, pearl bracelets circling her thin wrists.

"It looks amazing, Clary. Trust me," said Jonathan, smirking.

Just then, Jace walked into the room looking flustered. "Let's go," he said, his voice floating, distant. He gestured them out with a sweeping motion and moved to the door, holding it open for everyone to file out. Clary was the last to walk out. She paused in front of Jace. He looked up at her and she saw the same guilty look in his features. She took another step forward when his long fingers closed on her wrist and pulled her back to him. Clary looked at him in question. He raised his hand, the one that wasn't gripping her wrist and pulled the clip from her hair that Isabelle had placed there, holding back a few short curls from her face. His finger tips grazed her cheek as he dropped his hand, a sad smile on his lips. Her cheek felt aflame where he hand touched her, her heart rate pounding and blush dusting her cheeks. She quickly offered him a smile and hastily made her way outside.

She ran a hand through her short curls that now fell just past her ears and locked eyes with Isabelle, who was getting into a car along with her brother, Alec. She gave her an encouraging look and nodded toward the car that Jace was sliding into. She rolled her eyes as Isabelle mouthed the words, 'Ride with him.' So she did. She walked over and hopped into Jace's car.

The smile that he gave her then was one that she wouldn't mind seeing all the time. One that she most definitely liked.

She looked out the windshield, a smile of her own threatening to pull at her lips, and she thought of what she'd given up. Now she'd given up another part of her old life, another part that reminded her of the normalcy that had been in her life just a little over a week ago. Things were moving quickly now and she was beginning to really question if this was a good thing.

Her thoughts were cut short as Jace revved the engine loudly, a sweet laugh spilling from his lips as he smiled happily, the car plunging forward down highway at a high speed, leaving all of her doubts behind.

At least for that night.

* * *

**I love hearing what you guys think! Please let me know!**

**Who else got the City of Bones movie for Christmas? I did! I love it so much(mostly because of Jamie Campbell Bower and Robert Sheehan:)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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